


Night City Blues

by Antiseptic_Beauty



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28111134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antiseptic_Beauty/pseuds/Antiseptic_Beauty
Summary: V has a bad night, and Johnny isn't much help.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & Female V
Comments: 7
Kudos: 94





	Night City Blues

It's some ungodly hour when V stumbles back into her apartment, the door closing behind her. As her eyes adjust to the searing bright lights, her legs give way, sending her tumbling onto the hard laminate flooring.

"Fuck!"

She rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, when she sees him flicker into the corner of her eyeline. Caught her at her finest hour.

He strolls past her head, staring down at her. His face is impossible to read, as always. "Jesus, V. Thought you said you didn't drink."

"Heyyy, Johnny. Was wondering when you'd show your ugly face." She extends a shaky arm toward him. "Help me up, wouldya?"

"Even if I could, I think I'd rather let you lie there for a bit."

"Ha! Figures. I almost forgot you're an asshole."

With some considerable effort, V gets herself upright, barely making it a few steps over to the indent in the corner of her living space, knocking over a couple of empty soda cans as she doesn't so much sit as she does crumple onto her couch. He rematerializes opposite, his feet up on the table, cigarette in his hand.

"Gonna tell me what's got you feelin' so sorry for yourself tonight?"

"Why? Gonna pretend you care?" she shoots back, defensively.

It's plain in her face. Heartache; the bitter kind. Things begin to fall into place.

"Christ, this is about that chick from the Aldecaldos, isn't it?"

She shakes her head, petulantly. "Nuh-uh." Her half-baked denial tells him everything he needs to know.

"Forget about her, for fuck's sake. It ain't gonna happen."

"I am forgetting it, dummy. I've _totally_ forgotten about it."

He takes a drag. "Sure. Whatever you say."

He watches her sitting there, only half-lucid, humming some tune or another as her glassy eyes stare right through everything. He's never seen her like this. Figured she'd been acting weird since her little escapade with the nomads, but he had no idea she'd beat herself up so bad over some wasteland hick.

"Gonna barf," she suddenly announces, and he wants to look away as V struggles onto her feet, disoriented, and makes an unsteady dash for the toilet. He hears her hack up some bile, coughing violently, before finally re-emerging, pale and exhausted. She looks like shit - no other way of putting it.

"S'not fair. I'm dyin', and still nobody wants to fuck me," she groans as she shuffles over to her bed, flopping down face-first into the soft blankets, completely limp. "How come you used to get so many girls? You gotta tell me your secret, Johnny."

He shrugs. "I dunno. Just my natural charm, I guess. Or maybe my big dick. Latter probably won't help in your case."

V snorts. "You're such a gonk."

She rolls onto her side, her half-lidded eyes following him as he paces across her room. Her face is pressed against her pillow, her mouth slightly parted, her messy bangs hanging over her glazed forehead. A few undiscernible noises escape from her lips, drowned out by the bustle of the city outside.

"Hey. Hey, Johnny," She mumbles, as if ignoring her was even an option. "If you were real, would you...?"

"Don't even _think_ it, kid."

"You've totally thought about it." Her lips curl into a sly smile, as if she thinks she's somehow won. "Bet you're thinking about it right now."

If it were coming from anybody else's mouth, it'd piss him off. But looking at V slumped on that bed, he doesn't see the strong-willed, stubborn woman he felt like he'd gotten to know inside out; he just sees a sad, lonely, pathetic girl, drowning herself in all that self-pity she's been bottling up over the last week. It hurts, in a weird way. Like watching a dog kick itself when it's already down.

He can relate.

"Wanna know the most fucked up part?" she drones on, wearily. "If I was, like, into guys--"

"Go to sleep, V."

Tomorrow, he'll cut her a bit of slack, he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't help thinking Female V had a thing for Panam. Kinda felt like Panam was leading her on at times. Poor V :(


End file.
